


Before the Twelfth Chime

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassination Plot(s), Gender Disguise, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Felix is sent on an assassination mission against the heir of Gautier, only to find the man's story is deeper than Felix realises, and that this will be far more difficult than he imagined.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936372
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Before the Twelfth Chime

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story loosely inspired by the Vocaloid song, Cendrillon! I do hope you enjoy.

Gentle fingers reach beneath Felix’s chin. He allows them to lean his head up, closing his eyes when indicated. Something soft brushes over his eyelids. Despite everything, it takes all he has to not crack a smile.

“Be careful not to get that on my clothes,” says Felix.

“Not to worry,” responds Mercedes. “It’s only a small touch-up.”

He remains silent for the rest of this process, aware that he might interrupt her if he opens his mouth. He trusts her judgement in this more than himself. That’s why _she_ was the one who thought out the details of all this disguise, Felix willing for all of it. Except from the hair extensions, that is. Natural strands which fall down to his shoulder blades seem fine enough to him.

“It would be a lot easier if I was able to simply go as a regular male guest,” says Felix. “The corset is uncomfortable as hell.”

“Yes. But as you know, the Margrave’s son has been seducing women.”

“And you want to use me as bait.” Felix chuckles, leaning back in his seat. His eyes open now Mercedes’ hands fix a few strands of Felix’s hair—this he did himself, braiding strands off the side.

Her eyebrows have furrowed, a faint sense of guilt falling on Felix. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m willing to do this, you know that. I’m the best one among us to get the job done.”

“You do not like raising a blade to kill.”

“No. But I will when it’s necessary.”

Felix rises up from his chair, brushing the skirts of a turquoise dress and readjusting them. The dress pinches at the waist—this goddamn _corset—_ and falls down into a layered skirt. The top layer is a long, pannier material, stretching over a shorter one. Long sleeves of see-through lace, and a choker taut against his neck, jewels falling down against his collarbone. A shawl helps cover the lack of curve at his chest.

He has to admit it, when he properly looks at his reflection now everything is ready: he looks good. Convincing, too. Perfect bait for an assassination attempt on the Gautier heir. They’ve not gone out far enough for Felix to appear suspicious, but enough for him to certainly catch the eye of a womaniser.

His fingers creep beneath the shorter skirt, over a garter and to the cold steel of a knife. It should be enough.

“What should I do about my voice?” he says. “I’ve tried training it, but I don’t feel confident with speaking higher. You know how nobles can be about this.”

“I’ve been trying to get around this as well, and made the discovery that Sylvain Gautier knows sign language.”

Felix hums, mildly impressed. “So there’s more to him than an asshole suspected to have murdered a whole array of women. Interesting.”

“He’s supposed to be an intelligent person,” says Mercedes. “Combine this with a charmer, and I am certain he is rather adept at manipulation. I would be prepared, Felix.”

“As if someone like him will be able to get under _my_ skin,” Felix scoffs. “So the plan is for me to pretend to be mute, so I don’t have to speak?”

“ _That’s right,”_ she signs.

“ _I hope I don’t mess up and accidentally end up snapping at someone.”_

Mercedes chuckles. “You be on your best behaviour, Felix. I will warn you now that with an appearance like this, you may end up being … approached, in manners you may not enjoy.”

“Can I threaten them with my knife?”

“ _No,_ Felix.”

“I was joking. It’s all right, I’ll take care of it.” He glances back at his reflection. Though his face is composed, a sense of determination in those amber eyes, his heart is beginning to beat faster. “Is there anything else?”

“Only what we have talked about already. When Sylvain hopefully approaches you, don’t be so forward that he grows suspicious—go with your instincts and decide what is best.” Felix nods; he might be terrible with human interaction, although he imagines in this case, where there is an end goal towards it all that _doesn’t_ involve smiles and sweet words, it will be far easier. “Perhaps act coy, but in the end, you must go somewhere alone with him. Then you …”

“Kill him.” Felix’s smile is strained when Mercedes appears a little crestfallen. “Having doubts?”

She shakes her head. “No, all of our group has decided it must come to this. The suspicions are incredibly high, almost without a doubt—where else have all those women gone? And on the off chance we are mistaken, his family are still corrupt, their power over the military much too great.”

“And so, we kill the heir who is ready to inherent it.”

“I despise it. I truly, truly do.” And judging by how her eyes close briefly, chest rising with such a deep inhale, she means it. “It pains my heart, to think about how this man could have turned out much differently, had he been raised elsewhere. There might even be good in him. But there is much to consider in this matter.”

“Kill one to save the many, huh?” says Felix.

“Something I wish did not have to exist at all. But above all else, I wish for you to return home safely, Felix. If you have to run, please, do not let your pride stop you. None of us value any of this over your life. I mean that.”

Her hands come together. Smiling with a hint of sadness, Felix wanders over to her, taking those hands in his own and lowering them from her chest. “Hey. It’s all right. I’m nothing if not a survivor, and you know I am not one to value some kind of noble death over my own life. If the only possible outcome is death, I will be sure to escape if possible.”

He cannot bring himself to not add those last two words. As much as he will try his absolute hardest to stay alive, this is still not something he can guarantee. He doesn’t want to fill Mercedes with those false promises.

Still, it is something, and Mercedes appears to appreciate this; she smiles and nods. “May the Goddess protect you.”

If the Goddess was real, Felix doubts none of this would have ever happened in the first place, unless said Goddess enjoys watching Her people suffer. Even so, he knows this holds high meaning for Mercedes and takes her words to heart. His own beliefs are not enough to override hers.

And he will listen to them, as well as those silent pleas in her eyes. He will do all he can to not only pull this off, but live to tell the tale, regardless of whether or not an assassin is deemed a worthy place in that Goddess’ Heaven.

* * *

During the carriage ride to the Gautier household, Felix shifts through documentation in his hands. Their story of his origin is concrete. Months of planning and forgery have gone into this mission. With his pale skin and dark hair, he is easily able to pretend to be a resident of a location in Dagda—he is under the disguise of being a nobleman’s daughter, visiting this ball in order to see if there are any men of Fodlan worthy of Felix’s hand.

He will not be able to feel less anxious, however, until he’s inside the Gautier household. The last thing he wants is to have his identity be revealed at their doorstep. Once he’s over this hurdle, he can start thinking about what happens next.

There are other carriages nearby, stopping outside the Gautier gates. It’s a rather grand ball, after all, with a huge array of nobles attending. The scale is both concerning and a relief. Whilst it gives Felix a harder time of being spotted by Sylvain, it does at least make his arrival less suspicious.

“It will be all right, Felix.” His eyes flicker to his friend, Ashe, sitting opposite him in the carriage. “Leave the speaking to me. We’ll get you inside in no time.”

Felix smiles, although it’s quick to fade. “Part of me wishes for you to not come with me. It’s going to be dangerous in there.”

“You do not have to worry about me.” Ashe reaches over to Felix, squeezing his knee. “Please. Be careful as well, Felix. This is a powerful family, with so much control over the military. They could have you gone without a trace.”

Perhaps Felix should not smile, but he does. “Encouraging words, Ashe.”

“I do not mean to frighten you. I’m simply worried. We all are.” He leans back, glancing out the window of the carriage. “I know that you are going to do wonderfully. We’ve been planning for this for a great deal of time. However, with how dangerous it will be, we also have to be cautious and accept reality.”

“That this will still take everything I have to pull off?”

“Yes. But I know you will do it.”

It could be that those eyes which return to Felix are viewing him through their own lenses—that Ashe is imagining him as some sort of hero in one of the fairy-tales he loves. The one who must throw on a disguise and infiltrate the enemy base. Whereas Felix is simply a man fulfilling a duty, ready to do whatever it takes to survive.

But Ashe could also truly have faith in him. And so, Felix tries to smile, because he knows it will be his last genuine one for a time he cannot tell.

Ashe is the first to leave the carriage minutes later. He holds an arm out to Felix. The latter places a dark blue masquerade mask on his face, before stepping down as well once placing his hand on Ashe’s arm, his other hand keeping the longer layer of his dress at bay. Thank the Goddess he is not wearing heels as well. He’d be stumbling all over the place.

“Good evening, sir,” says Ashe, bowing his head to a knight. He holds out a slip of paper in a hand forced to not tremble. Felix is so overridden with nerves and the distraction of trying to not let this show, he glosses over Ashe giving the knight details.

“Ah, I heard a noblewoman would be visiting all the way from there,” says the knight, reading through the document. “Enjoying Fodlan?”

“I apologise, but my Lady cannot speak.”

“Oh, yeah, I did hear about that. I take it that you are her interpreter?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Felix signs to him, _“Tell him it is a pleasure to be here.”_

“She says it’s a pleasure to be here.”

“As it is to have you here.” The knight hands the papers back to Ashe, before gesturing through the gates. “All is fine here. Have a lovely time.”

“Thank you!” Ashe exclaims. He holds in a small sigh of relief until the two are inside the property. “That was nerve-wracking.”

“ _All that is left is the party.”_

“Yes. Let us enjoy ourselves, my Lady.”

There’s an amused glint in Ashe’s eyes. Regardless of all that is weighing on their shoulders, a part of Ashe is clearly enjoying himself. Felix shakes his head, although cannot deny that a part of him is the same. Perhaps it doesn’t help that he has always had a thrill for danger.

The pair are soon inside the Gautier manor and are led to where the ball is held. The music, chatter and laughter from the hall can be heard long before they have entered it. When they do so, it is louder and livelier than ever.

 _Too_ lively, with all things considered. There are people everywhere, although this spacious grand hall, with its gigantic pillars reaching the ceiling and wall-length windows, is more than enough to contain them all. Energetic music is played by a quartet on a stage. Long tables line the sides, bustling with attendees who indulge in as much food as they can muster.

Plates and plates of luxury they do not need, whilst the slums of the city, all those small towns and villages throughout the country, are on the brink of starvation. Such is the way for nobles.

“Ten o’clock,” murmurs Ashe, glancing at a grand clock against a wall. “May be a little time before Sylvain arrives … We should do our best to blend in.”

“ _I don’t particularly want to dance.”_

Ashe laughs. “I cannot blame you. Still, it might be good to play the part … Oh, speaking of.”

Two men, both seeming a little tipsy, are quick to make their way over. “Welcome to another ball from the Gautiers,” says one, raising a glass to the pair. “This is your first time here, right?”

Felix signs, Ashe interpreting, “Yes, she’s been invited all the way from Dagda.”

“Huh. Deaf, or can’t speak?”

“The latter.”

“Eh, not that it matters,” says the other. He seems to be more intoxicated than his partner. “Still a beautiful thing regardless of if you can speak or not.”

Oh, Goddess. That is disgusting. _“I guess tell him I’m flattered or something.”_

“She’s flattered.” Ashe’s voice is emotionless; the comment has clearly got under his skin as well.

“Come on now, that’s no why to treat a lady,” says the first man. He holds his hand out to Felix. “Dance with me, and I’ll show you what a _real_ man looks like.”

“ _Goddess, do I have to?”_ Felix signs to Ashe.

“ _Only for a while. We’ve gotten some curious looks and it’d be good to blend in.”_

“ _Kill me now.”_

“She says she’d love to!” says Ashe. “Go on, now.”

“That’s score one for me.” The man grins, his friend scowling.

“Just you wait,” the latter grumbles, walking away and ready to prey on his next unfortunate victim. Although Felix is quite unfortunate himself, being led to the centre of the ball as he tries to remember all he knows about dancing.

They’re at least positioned right, with Felix’s hand on the man’s shoulder. Although the hand on his waist makes him want to throw the guy down onto the floor.

“Don’t take any notice of my friend. He doesn’t know how to treat the ladies. Me, however … Well, I might have been single for a while, but let me tell you—”

 _I wonder when Sylvain is going to turn up?_ Felix thinks to himself, letting the motions of dance come to him whilst his mind wanders. It’s helpful to have an excuse not to speak. _The ball is supposed to end at midnight, and it’s already been twenty minutes since we arrived._

“I’m a great guy, truly, but sometimes women choose to keep me as a friend anyway … Seems as though _you’re_ a woman who knows a good catch when she sees one.”

_Perhaps that’s how he does this. He turns up fairly late, just long enough for what he needs, before taking a woman away … It’s the same every time. The family arranges a ball, a woman goes missing. Their military power is simply too powerful for any reports to go somewhere._

“Kinda nice that you don’t talk, in a sense. With nice guys like me, all women do is talk, never listen … And you know, if you were to use your mouth in a _different_ way for me, I could give you everything you wanted.”

Hold up. Felix snaps away from his thoughts, eyes landing on the man’s face. He has a stupid expression of innocence despite the glint in his eye. And how he’s creeping one hand lower to Felix’s rear.

 _I think the fuck not._ Hands on the man’s chest push him away, _hard,_ Felix wasting no time in heading in the opposite direction.

“Oh, come on, I was only joking!” the man shouts after him. “Really, you don’t know something good when you’ve seen it!”

It’s been half an hour and Felix is absolutely finished with this place already. He wanders over to the side, towards where the tables are. He supposes he can eat something despite how much he despises all this luxury. Maintaining this disguise and not snapping aloud at people is exhausting work.

As he searches through, trying to find some meat he can grab, his gaze filters through the crowds in search of Ashe. He’s soon spotted whisking a woman away on the dancefloor. Huh. He’s clearly not of nobility, only here because Felix needs him, so it’s rather charming to see a woman wish to dance with him.

And now, Felix has a reason to not speak to anyone if he has no interpretor. Or so he thinks.

“Hello there, beautiful.” Felix’s head turns at a voice; it belongs to a brunette woman, smiling at him.

“ _Sorry. No speech, here.”_

To Felix’s surprise, the woman blinks, smiles, and signs, _“Oh, I’m hard of hearing myself. What’s your name?”_

Huh. That sure is a surprise. From it, he almost signs his real name, although recovers enough to say, _“_ _Felicity_ _. How about yours?”_

“ _Dorothea. It’s a pleasure.”_ She holds a hand out to Felix, which he takes. _“May I ask where your family resides? I don’t recognise y_ _our name.”_

“ _In Dagda. I recognise yours.”_ It’s on the tip of his tongue, although he’s struggling to work out when exactly he has head it.

“ _That is unsurprising. I’m not a noble, but I’m in a renowned opera company. Opera when I’m hard of hearing, I know, but I’ve learned to get by.”_ Dorothea smiles, adding, _“The Margrave’s son is a big fan of the opera, which is how I was invited.”_

Bingo. He’s been hoping that if he has to speak to anyone at all, it will be productive. _“Do the two of you know each other?”_

“ _We’ve briefly met, but no more than this.”_ The moment Felix is pondering if it is too forward to question Dorothea on if she knows about the rumours, she says, _“Have you heard the whisperings about him?”_

“ _With those missing cases?”_

“ _Yes. Rumour says that he has been seducing women, only to kill them. One by one, they go missing. And one by one, those cases mysteriously disappear for one reason or another.”_

Aside from the horrific thought of these lives being taken for no reason, this is another aspect of these crimes which make Felix furious; how _easy_ it is for these cases to be dropped. The women Sylvain seduces are either commonfolk or noblewomen whose deaths will easily be overlooked. His power allows all evidence to be brushed under the rug.

It’s incredible what money can do. _“Do you believe it’s a coincidence, like the police say?”_

“ _Certainly not. What, every time a ball is held and a woman goes missing, it’s always because of her running away from responsibilities, or being kidnapped by another guest? Seems unlikely. However, I don’t know if I can say all my accusation would fall on Sylvain.”_

“ _What do you mean?”_ Felix asks. Some of Mercedes’ words return to him.

“ _Sylvain … Yes, one might call it manipulation, but he is miles different to his family. Who knows what is going on behind the scenes? We can suspect as much as we like, but it’s impossible to get the full story. We cannot even say for sure if those women are dead.”_

Felix does not respond for several moments. He has considered this himself, if Sylvain is a cog in a far bigger machine. That is why he’s to fulfil his role no matter what. Removing Sylvain from the equation, even if he is only partially to blame, would still help the bigger cause. But he cannot deny that it will be far more difficult to lift his blade if there is more to this.

“ _Anyway, sorry for rambling when we have only just met,”_ says Dorothea. _“This is simply on my mind a fair bit. An old friend of mine is caught up in this too, and … It’s very personal to me.”_

Pain stabs at Felix’s chest. At the very least, _he_ hasn’t had anyone close to him get caught up in all of this. _“I hope that she receives justice.”_

“ _I hope so as well.”_

It’ll be in Felix’s hands to grant it. No pressure in the slightest.

* * *

Ashe soon returns, absolutely breathless. He attempts to speak, only to pant instead and hold his finger up to Felix. The latter merely smirks and takes a bite out of a meat skewer he found.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” Ashe finally manages to say. “Goodness, these women sure love dancing!”

“ _Quite the player, aren’t you?”_

“I am _not._ I simply thought it would be nice to dance for a moment, and the next thing I know, I am all over the dancefloor.” He takes a sip of water, breathing out deeply after swallowing. “It’s already ten minutes to eleven. He’s supposed to be here soon, so I wonder …”

“ _Ah!_ There he is!”

Ashe blinks over this woman’s shout, an amused smile on his face as he and Felix bring their eyes to the entrance. “Oh. I think that says it all.”

The rim of a glass presses against Felix’s lips. It’s difficult to see much from afar, aside from a head of red hair towering over the women who surround him. An identifiable trait of members of the Gautier family. Something spikes in Felix’s chest, akin to hatred, but mingled with anxiety.

This is where the real game begins.

“Sorry I’m late!” It’s a cheerful voice, yet there’s still enough of a stance within it for most voices to quieten, aside from some women whispering and giggling softly to each other. “Life can get pretty hectic, you know … I must say that so many of you look wonderful tonight.”

Felix rolls his eyes, taking his time in putting an empty glass down in order to take his gaze away from the infuriating man. When he returns his attention back, however, the man is close enough in the room for Felix to notice him.

And … okay. He’ll admit it, Sylvain Gautier is attractive. Handsome features, carelessly casual hair, the smile of a charmer and nobleman’s formal wear in dark reds and blacks. He cannot see them from here, but has heard tales of enchanting honey-brown eyes. But none of it matters. A person could be the most gorgeous in the world, and it would never, for a single moment, take away all the crimes they have committed.

“I think to get his attention, you must keep actively talking to myself and others,” murmurs Ashe when he leans closer to Felix. “Make yourself known in the party. Luckily, your outfit already seems to stand out, although not suspiciously.”

Felix has to agree—he admires Mercedes’ eye for making him look bold enough to catch attention. He supposes, however, that it would be difficult to be so extravagant, you appear to have an ulterior motive. Noble balls are the perfect opportunity for everyone to flaunt wealth.

As much as Felix is hardly a sociable person, he knows Ashe is right. He needs to be actively around to make his appearance mean anything. The men keep him wary, and have made him realise how dreadful it truly is to be a woman in these types of gatherings; but then again, if he tries to cast them aside constantly, Sylvain might notice and not bother. Goddamnit. There’s too much to consider.

And the chime of eleven o’clock has already struck. If he doesn’t pick this up soon …

“ _Good evening.”_ Felix blinks; during a break to try and ease the tension in his chest, Sylvain himself has approached him. Smiling, gloved hands signing in front of him. _“_ _I saw you signing earlier._ _Hard of hearing?”_

“ _Can’t speak.”_

“Gotcha.” The smile grows. Felix’s chest grows a little tight. “I’ve never seen you around before. You’re from Dagda, right?”

“ _Yes. I do not frequent Fodlan often.”_

“Like it here?”

“ _It’s pleasant, although I do enjoy it back home.”_ Felix has researched Dagda consistently for this plan to work, just in case anyone questions him about his supposed homeland—he has all the answers he needs on the tip of his tongue, running through this information in his head.

“Understandable. For some people, I suppose there’s nothing quite like home.” _For some people._ Due to a reason Felix cannot say, this wording, and the tone used to say it, brings uncertainty in Felix. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of your time here. I must say, you’re absolutely beautiful.”

Felix almost wishes to sign _I know._ He’d like to have at least a little snark in his reply, although there has to be a limit. _“Thanks. I’ve had that a lot tonight.”_

“Creeps around, huh?” Sylvain’s eyes flicker over the crowds. Either the women casting him and Felix jealous glances go over Sylvain’s head, or he’s used to it enough that he doesn’t have a single visible reaction. “Get those a lot at these gatherings. I may get around myself too, but at the end of the day, I’m just looking for _the one,_ as they say.” Sylvain’s gaze returns to Felix. “Do you have a lover back home? Someone who has your eye?”

“ _No one.”_

“Then, I am sure it is fine for me to ask you for a dance.” Sylvain’s hand holds out to Felix, bowing as he does so with his other arm behind his back. “What do you say, my Lady?”

Felix takes it. Of course he does, because time is ticking, and he has to somehow encourage Sylvain to drag him away somewhere private. He smiles as well with his inability to speak. Heart pounding, and his eyes flickering to the clock as he’s guided to the centre of the room.

Sylvain has enough presence for people to part. They continue to dance as well, but ensure there’s more than enough room for Sylvain and Felix. Truly the centre of attention. Felix swallows, hoping he doesn’t mess up what he has learned about dancing—but at least if he does, it may seem to be a cute charm rather than anything else. He’s once again incredibly grateful for choosing to wear flat pumps over heels.

And besides, being guided is a perk. There’s less anxiety when following someone else’s movements. Although that someone is perfect at this. Of course. When you use balls as a method to allure women in order to kill them, Felix supposes one does become fantastic at dancing after a while.

“I’m realising now, that asking you to dance means you cannot speak,” says Sylvain. “My deepest apologies. If you ever have anything to say, tap my arm.”

Felix nods. This is dawning on him too, how he’s supposed to somehow seduce Sylvain when dancing, when unable to speak a single word. Luckily, there’s a smile remaining on Sylvain’s face, which grows whenever Felix has to look away when they meet eyes. The talk of gorgeous honey-brown eyes has hardly been an exaggeration, and Felix refuses to have his heart skip beats this way.

And it’s not only Felix who has beautiful eyes on their mind. “Your eyes are striking, even if they keep flickering away.” Sylvain’s voice brings Felix’s attention back to him. “They’re almost the colour of topaz … Sort of like a cat. I wish you’d let me look at them more, although you seem shy.”

 _Shy._ Ha. Him, shy? He’s simply not about to fall for cheap tricks and tactics. He shrugs, wondering if it’s too simple of an answer, although Sylvain is still smiling.

“It’s enchanting. Your features too—sharp, yet still beautiful, and the contrast between your skin and hair … It’s no wonder my eyes fell on you the moment I entered here.”

Felix smiles. _Goddess, I wish I could strangle you right here and now, you arrogant, sleazy, good-for nothing—_

“I was right, though. About the unfortunate situation of not being able to receive your answers as we dance.” Sylvain leans in, lips closer to Felix’s ear as he says, “Such a conflicting situation. Wanting to listen to all you have to say, but being able to hold your hand now, and feel you beneath my touch.”

The hand on Felix’s waist brings him in closer. He blinks, eyes fixed on the ground. He’s close, although isn’t sure on if it’s too much. There’s no certainty of anything, other than the thundering of his heartbeat and the breath on his ear.

It’s stirring something in him. He doesn’t like that.

His hand taps Sylvain’s arm. As promised, Sylvain lets go immediately, waiting for Felix to speak. _“I’m sure you say this to everyone.”_

“Not quite,” says Sylvain. “I have charmed many, yes. But it’s not often I genuinely mean my words.”

 _And how often have you said that, too?_ Felix thinks to himself. _Told a woman she is special, that you have never felt that way before, only to whisk her away and bring an end to her life?_

“I’ve seen countless girls with pretty faces. But you … there’s something different about you.” Sylvain takes strands of Felix’s hair beneath his fingers, each strand falling down as he runs those fingers through it. “Something that has me wondering how we have never met before.”

“ _I mean, living in Dagda is going to be a huge cause for that.”_

Sylvain laughs. _Laughs._ It’s a genuine, light sound, Felix’s face growing that slight bit warmer. He curses himself silently; a laugh that _appears_ to be genuine is not a cause for him to fall over himself this way. It doesn’t say anything about how Sylvain truly is.

“That’s what I mean. No one else would usually have the confidence to say something like that to me. I adore it.” Those fingers playing with Felix’s hair tucks strands behind his ear, before they stroke over Felix’s cheek and lift his chin. “I wonder how you feel about me.”

Felix swallows. _I hate you. Of course I do. I hate your family’s influence over the lands, how much you cause trouble for anyone who isn’t deemed as powerful and wealthy enough. I hate the hand touching me right now and all it has killed._

But that hand is also contributing to the warmth Felix feels in his face. It must be noticeable; there’s a knowing look in Sylvain’s eye.

Women around them appear jealous. No one dares, however, to interrupt. Not even listen. The room still bustles with chatter and the quartet’s melody.

It’s almost as though it’s them alone. The killer and his assassin.

“It’s easy, for others to judge those they don’t know,” says Sylvain. That hand remains on Felix’s chin. “Pre-assumptions based on what others have said. Perhaps you yourself have those own beliefs about me. And that is when I wonder if you are the same as them. Have you too learned about me through the clouded lens of others?”

Felix gulps again when Sylvain’s thumb strokes over Felix’s bottom lip. “What if it were the two of us, no one else, and neither of us knew anything about the other? I wonder what would happen then.”

He cannot remain frozen—not if he wants this to go anywhere. All that is keeping him rooted to the spot is all that which is mental. His pounding heart from those eyes fixed on him, his lifted head. He has to speak. He has to.

And Sylvain is leading him exactly where he needs to be.

“ _Who knows?”_ Felix signs. _“There’s something about you. Beyond anything I’ve heard.”_

Sylvain’s eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?” Felix almost sighs in relief when Sylvain releases him, although it’s only for a moment before Felix is taken back into their dancing stance. He almost fumbles his steps. “Though I know little about you, I still believe there is more than meets the eye. You’re rather mysterious. I do like that. And part of me wishes to remove that mask of yours … Although I’m sure you understand what that would mean.”

It’s so light, Felix could have almost missed it; the lips which brush against his cheek. His heart is racing. It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be charmed by this man, not for a single second. Although perhaps it is best he is as such—it will seem real when it comes to Felix getting the two alone.

Minutes pass. Felix tries to not allow his eyes to flicker to the clock too much. Only a matter of time, he continuously repeats to himself. He will likely not have another chance after this day.

Somehow, there’s a sense of loss in that thought; how this will be the first and last time he can do this.

Sylvain is soon bringing him closer. His head rests on the other’s chest, and there’s a murmur given to him. “I cannot allow it to happen to you. Somehow, some way, you seem different than the rest.”

Felix eyes grow wide. His ear pressed against Sylvain’s chest pick up the heartbeat within it: _thump, thump, thump._ Nearly as rapid as Felix’s own.

“So strange, isn’t it? How it takes little time at all for us to connect.” A pause, before Sylvain adds, “For all we know, we could have been reincarnated, after spending a life together. It would explain why I am so drawn to you.”

They’re likely only words to seduce Felix, nothing more than sweet talk in order to bring down his walls, let Sylvain in, although there is a miniscule part of him which agrees. There’s something here. A spark, perhaps. A sense of familiarity.

Or perhaps that is simply how Sylvain _wants_ Felix to feel.

Sylvain’s hold on Felix grows that little stronger, enough for Sylvain to swoop him down into a dip. Felix blinks, staring up at the face above him, mouth open—even if he were able to speak, not a single word would leave him.

“What do you think?” Sylvain’s voice is barely above a murmur. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or is that only a fairy-tale?”

What a twisted story this would be, should it be a fairy-tale. Felix’s hands holding onto Sylvain, aware of the knife they will soon have to wield.

Although perhaps that is only common for those twisted tales.

Felix can tell Sylvain’s grip is strong enough to keep hold of him as he lifts his hands, signing, _“Who knows what there is to believe? All I know is that this isn’t enough.”_

“No. You’re quite right.” Sylvain’s gaze lands on the clock; Felix follows, finding it is already not long before midnight. “Perhaps, before midnight’s chime, we should get out of here.”

Sylvain straightens up with Felix in tow. He exhales a large breath, adjusting to Sylvain now leading Felix away by the hand. There are murmurs around them, although not scandalised enough to say this doesn’t happen frequently. A whole line of victims led the way to this moment. It will be Felix’s task to ensure it ends here.

The two head through silent corridors. They’re almost sinister, despite being normal, elegant, even in dim lighting. Perhaps it’s the emptiness. Knowing of what will come by the end of it—or at least, what Sylvain wishes to commit.

Except it’s almost difficult imagining him doing so, when his words, his laughter, pop into Felix’s mind. He shakes it mentally. No, that is the work of a manipulator which has him feeling this way.

“I must ask another question,” says Sylvain, his sudden voice amongst the silence startling Felix. “I wonder if you have similar desires to myself.”

When Felix nods his head, he is finally no longer lying; the way his back is pushed into a nearby wall, lips crashing against his is so alluring, it would be impossible to feel any other way.

His eyes close, arms wrapping around Sylvain to urge him to come closer. He does. Almost too much so, the hand resting on the wall by Felix and the other arm looping around his waist overwhelming. He shouldn’t enjoy the feel of Sylvain’s lips against his own. It should not be a _thrill._

Perhaps there is a part of him which loves the danger. Why else would he agree to this mission with no hesitation? To bring the man down, yes … But perhaps, just perhaps, there is a slither of him which craves living on the edge, never certain on what will happen next.

There’s a leg slipping between his own, a tongue in his mouth. A moan. Felix silently moans, growing scarily compliant beneath that kiss. The hands grasping tightly at the back of Sylvain’s jacket twitch. He imagines taking hold of the knife he has attached to his thigh, _using_ it, and ending all of this.

He freezes when a hand trails up his leg beneath the petticoat. Thankfully, it’s on the one without the knife, but it’s still much too close. Felix has to snap out of this. He cannot keep weakening beneath those lips, that tongue, and the hand so electrifying against his skin.

It breaks for a moment, Felix gasping for air, long enough for Sylvain to say, “You really are something, aren’t you?” A huskiness in that voice causes Felix to shudder. Their lips are together again in an instant.

Felix has to do this naturally. A single hand shifting away from Sylvain, trailing down the other’s arm instead. Slowly, he’ll take it back, towards his knife and—Goddamnit, _no._ Sylvain takes the damn thing and pins it against the wall behind Felix. Fantastic.

And as soon as he lifts the other … yes, Sylvain does the same there as well, a satisfied sound released against Felix’s lips. Felix swears he does something similar. _Stop that,_ he scolds himself mentally. _This is hardly the time to be turned on._

He flickers through his thoughts wildly. It’d seem suspicious to break away—should he wait until Sylvain lets go and tries to bring him elsewhere? That seems to be best. Considering he’s responding to the kiss, a leg raised against Sylvain’s, it would be odd to pull away now.

“You know something?” Sylvain asks, lips so close to Felix’s. “Regardless of everything, you do seem to be enjoying yourself.”

The hairs on the back of Felix’s neck stand on end. What does _that_ mean? He’s too stunned for a moment to process Sylvain bringing his wrists together beneath a single hand. His other trails down, up Felix’s leg. This time the right one.

Shit. This is when Felix squirms, leg kicking out to Sylvain’s; the latter keeps it aside with his own. Fingers feel for the garter, taking the knife. And Felix, still struggling, swallows as the tip of his own blade finds his neck.

“I highly doubt this is only an accessory,” says Sylvain. His voice is light-hearted, almost amused, as though he’s not face-to-face with a potential assassin. “So who are you, really?”

There’s not a single moment to waste. Felix tenses beneath Sylvain’s hold on him, using it to lift his leg and collide it with the arm holding the knife. It’s not enough to send the weapon flying. The hit still stuns Sylvain enough, however, for Felix to yank his arms free. He rolls away, breathing heavily as he sets himself into a defensive stance.

“Awh, come on! I just want to talk.” Sylvain taps the blade against his fingers. “Unless you weren’t lying about the mute thing along with your identity.”

“I was.” Felix might as well come clean now, if his role is already being revealed. Sylvain’s eyes widen.

“Your voice is deeper than I imagined.”

“Well, I’m a guy. What does it matter?”

“Heh. I like it when guys are that cute. What?” Sylvain laughs at Felix’s expression of surprise, tossing the knife casually into his other hand, and back again. “Is it really a shock? Sure, I know I’m known for getting around ladies, but …”

“You don’t just _get around_ them,” Felix spits. “You murder them.”

“Oh, yes. That is what the rumours say, isn’t it? How easy it is for lies to spread.”

Sylvain’s expression has grown more serious. Felix isn’t so easily fooled. “You’re manipulative,” says Felix. “I’m not going to believe that.”

“So it seems. And I suppose that is where this knife comes in. You’re here to kill me. Clever, but your presence was too suspicious to not second guess. Perhaps I wouldn’t have known if I wasn’t so observant.”

“Either way, I’m not here to simply idly chat.”

Felix sprints forward, aiming a roundhouse kick for the other’s head. This damn skirt slows him down, and the _corset—_ Mercedes purposefully didn’t tie it tightly enough so it would hinder his movements, but he’s still not able to move and breathe as comfortably as he wishes.

Either way, Sylvain dodges. He doesn’t swing the knife. Merely continues to evade Felix’s attacks with a smile on his face. “If you want to take the dress off so you can move better, I can wait,” he says. “I’d like it if you were showing a bit more skin, even.”

“Do you _ever_ shut up?”

“No. Not really. Perhaps a lot would be different, if I wasn’t so talkative. Less women would have died that way.”

“So you admit it. You admit you killed them!”

Sylvain smiles. It’s full of misery that twists Felix’s stomach—is a fake smile able to do that much? “No. I didn’t. But I’m the cause of their deaths.”

The words are too confusing for Felix to do anything but race forward. Kicks, swings of his fists. A blur of movements he doesn’t fully comprehend. Not until the two are finally on the floor, Felix wrenching that knife out from Sylvain’s grasp and directing the blade at his neck.

He doesn’t even flinch. “So you want to kill me.”

A statement, not a question. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Make it quick then, would you? Although I do have one request.”

Felix is silenced by his confusion, until his frustration takes over. “What the hell are you on about? Why are you _complying_ to me killing you?”

“Because it sure as hell would solve a lot of problems, for myself and others.” Sylvain leans back on his hands, head tilted back with closed eyes. Almost peaceful. Even now as a knife is against his neck, poised to kill him. “So go ahead and do it. Better by such a pretty guy than something else.”

Felix is silent. He shouldn’t be. He cannot be fooled by any of this. “You’re trying to trick me,” he says. “That’s all you do.”

“Does it matter either way, as long as you drag that blade across my throat?”

Felix presses this blade closer, although does no more than this. Those eyes terrify him when they open. It’s not possible. It’s not possible to have such an array of emotion in your eyes through acting. Fury, sadness, and perhaps … relief.

“What are you talking about with this?” says Felix. His voice is much too quiet. “What do you mean when you say that you didn’t kill them?”

“Exactly that. I didn’t kill them. Not directly, at least.” Sylvain smiles. So forced, much more strained than other smiles he has given tonight. “That would be my brother.”

“Your brother …?”

“The eldest, Miklan Gautier. He has a kind of thrill over kidnapping women and, later, killing them. A big contrast to me wooing them, huh?” Sylvain pauses, before adding, “He’s always hated me for being the heir instead of him. I think this is his way of getting his own back against me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Miklan gets me to seduce women, kidnap them and leave them for him to kill. Is the whole thing put lightly.”

 _Lightly._ “What would even implore you to go along with that?” says Felix. “Couldn’t you—I don’t know, tell your father? Fight against him?”

“Easily. I’m not weak. But blackmail is a tough thing.” Unmistakeable rage enters Sylvain’s eyes. “He has someone I cherish. A childhood friend of mine, called Ingrid. And her life hangs in the balance. I—I know it’s awful, but I can’t sacrifice her instead of multiple lives of women I don’t know. Perhaps that makes me a bad person.” A tear. It trickles from Sylvain’s left eye when both close, falling down his cheek. “But I’m just human, at the end of the day.”

Felix is silent, his stomach in knots. It all complicates matters if Sylvain has humanity after all. Felix is scrutinising his face, trying to find evidence of him lying, of that malevolent glint, but … The only addition to that expression is desperation.

“I don’t understand,” is all Felix can say, speaking at a volume so low, he may as well be whispering. “I—I’ve been sent to kill you because of all you done.”

“In my eyes, I’m worthy of death. Their blood is still on my hands.” Sylvain’s fingertips trace over the blade with a hint of a smile on his face. “All I ask is that you ensure Ingrid’s safety, first. I’m sure Miklan would kill her immediately if he no longer needs her as leverage.”

“I don’t—how is any of this possible? We never … I don’t …”

Felix blinks from fingers trailing over his face. “I’m sorry,” says Sylvain. “I didn’t mean to make this difficult for you. All that attempt at an impressive front aside, I truly am charmed by you. Even if I don’t know your real name, nor the face beneath that mask.”

In the distance, the bell rings for midnight. Each sound strikes fear in Felix’s chest as he begs silently for it to not resound the twelfth time. He needs to be able to stop that time at this exact instant, to work all of this out, have a clearer mind …

The hands gripping the knife are trembling. “If all you say is true,” says Felix, “I cannot kill you. I can’t kill someone who is innocent.”

“But I’m not innocent. My hands are drenched in blood.”

“So are mine. I’m sure I have been the result people’s deaths, too. And all you have done is most certainly wrong. But I—I’m human as well. And I can’t fault you for protecting someone you care about.”

_What … what am I saying? I don’t even know if it’s the truth, I don’t know any of this. I could be falling into a trap. He could have said this to others who doubted him._

But those emotions on that face, how it has has paled … Felix cannot help but believe it.

“Even if you don’t put fault on me, it’s never going to end.”

“Shut up,” Felix finds himself snapping. “I can’t let your damn brother live if he’s the one doing this. I can’t simply walk away.”

But what is there to do? Felix has successfully drawn his target out here, could kill him any moment with a single swipe of this knife. But he has nothing on how to do the same to Miklan. Nothing, except from the knowledge that …

“Use me as leverage.”

“What?” Sylvain blinks in surprise, and the amount of puzzlement on that face is enough to convince Felix he is, after all, saying the truth.

“You’re meant to be seducing women and taking them to him, right? Do that with me. Pretend to drug me or whatever, and I’ll kill him. Simple.”

Sylvain’s mouth drops open. His eyes are calculating. “That … that could work. But it would put your life in danger.”

“So? I put it in danger by coming here at all. It’s what I signed up for. Do you know where … Ingrid, wasn’t it? Do you know where she is?”

“Yes. I don’t think Miklan’s death would reach quick enough for her to be murdered before rescuing her, either. She’s near Miklan.”

“Then let’s do it.” Felix rises to his feet, re-attaching the knife to his garter. He flickers his gaze back to Sylvain, who is still on the floor, staring. “What is it? Get up, you idiot.”

“I just … I can’t express how grateful I am.” Sylvain rises to his feet, and an actual smile returns to his face. Goddamnit. It still stirs something in Felix’s chest. “I didn’t expect you to believe me. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. And yet here you are, willing to help. You’re a good person.”

Felix averts his gaze. “I can’t return home without something to show of what I’ve done, right? And I can’t turn a blind eye to my real target.”

“True. But it’s still wonderful of you.” Sylvain walks over to Felix, trailing fingers down either side of his face. “May I have your name?”

“Felix. It’s Felix.”

“Felix.” Sylvain tests it on his tongue, a grin forming. “That’s as cute as … Well, what I’m sure the entirety of your face is.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “You can remove the mask too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why, thanks so much, as that _is_ indeed what I was asking.” There’s a relief of coolness against Felix’s skin as Sylvain removes the mask. There’s a moment of pause. “Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“You really are beautiful.”

Felix’s head turns to one side, as though this would hide how he can feel his face heating up. “Shut up, idiot. You don’t need to try and seduce me anymore.”

“I know. Because I’ve already succeeded.” One of those damn winks, and a kiss on the side of Felix’s neck before Sylvain backs away. “This is bound to be dangerous. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Of course.”

If anything, it is what will come after which terrifies Felix the most; if those words Sylvain so easily strings together, those of affection and attraction, are true, and what it means if the same emotions reside in Felix’s own chest.

It truly is like a fairy-tale.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see my artwork for this week as well, feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight.


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